


Until Everything is a Blur

by orphan_account



Category: NSYNC
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-10
Updated: 2010-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:45:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They all trade, in one way or another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until Everything is a Blur

When Justin and Lance broke up for real, and not the kind where they both fumed and wouldn't speak to each other only for them to fall back into bed magnetized, it was shockingly bitter. Lance raised his eyebrows a whole lot more, or at least had them plucked so that he always looked condescendingly curious. He didn't touch cereal anymore either, and had once put vinegar in the milk for Justin as a nasty surprise. He e-mailed Justin's personal account a number of times pretending to be a suicidal teenage girl who had tattooed Timberlake in scar tissue, and wrote poetry to Justin like:  
_Stab thee in the heart, oh lovely golden one,  
Your blood will flow freely  
As will mine, linked forever  
Like corpses hand in hand._  
And loved it when Justin got freaked out so much that Lonny had to ride on the bus whenever Justin was there, because more than anything now, he hated it when he had to ride with Justin, and needed another person there to blunt the animosity.

Justin was just as petty. He started dating Britney, after Lance had told him in one of their conversations when they were still together that Britney was hot and he would go for her if he were straight. It was a slap in the face to Lance, how Justin turned himself off so quickly. During one of their increasingly more frequent arguments, Lance yelled, "You fuck! What was all that talk about if society were more forgiving? It was obviously just more Timberlake primadonna crap! Manipulative piece of shit!" His accent came back in full force.

Red as fury, Justin replied, "Gay 'til graduation, Lansten."

Britney and Justin split up not too long after that. Britney found out about Lance and was furious. She released Stronger and humped the chair for the world to see, decked out in black and shattering doors with one knock. Stripping seemed to give her some sort of release as she felt everyone's eyes skim over her taut belly and perky breasts. It petered out after a while, because she found out there was a thin line between her emotional release and her male fans' cheap and creepy titillation.

Justin blotted out the names on each and every love note they had sent each other, when they were going for the romance of the letter (or printed e-mails, in this case) instead of the practicality of the phone. While he was on the bus, he opened the window and let them all fly out, fluttering like hummingbirds on the gravel. A cop caught that though, and he was given a fine for littering and let his picture be licensed for that stretch of highway. He dreaded facing that again this coming tour, when he would see his face pointing a finger, saying "Do Not Litter" in Comic Sans MS. It was a hideous reminder of what he was like when he was really angry, how despicable he could be, treating a cherished childhood friend as if she were nothing more than a female facsimile of a man he used to love.

Justin stayed off love for a while, but Chris was suddenly there, one night saying "You're legal now man. It's not like I've been waiting, but Jesus Christ, you're hot!" So they went at it, and It lasted longer than he expected, but he wanted It short and sweet. This affair made him feel even more ashamed because he didn't find Chris's flabby body all that attractive, and had to fantasize about JC or Lance sometimes. He loved Chris to death, he was sure of that, but he wasn't attracted, not when he had memories of Lance's newly sculpted arms, when he could see JC's trim body clad in tight shirts, or when he looked at himself in the mirror. He broke it off, saying "It's not you, it's me. It's really me. I have issues, man."

Chris didn't take that at all well, but he knew Justin's childish limitations and never expected anything deep from him, but to be fed that line! It rankled deep and set up something permanent in him. The prankster, the joker, the maker of weird references. All a line of defense that would have to be destroyed brick by frustrating brick. He seriously thought JC would be the one and went into it thinking like a scientist, like an impartial jury. Let's see what he can do, he thought.

Of course, that never would have worked, and it didn't. JC was sweet, but Chris found out that that didn't equal patience, which for some weird reason it did in his head. Besides, Chris was too energetic, JC too contemplative. For a little while, the opposites attract rule seemed to work in their favor. JC was able to calm Chris down. "You're my human Ritalin," Chris said, and while everyone laughed, JC being JC, was oddly moved, although he laughed too because he didn't want to appear as if that had really gotten to him, that core in him that really didn't like being touched.

Chris made JC try new things, from getting him a book of poetry by Ai who wrote disturbing stuff, because "everyone has a dark side, C, and you need to let yours out" to triple chocolate fudge ice cream "because your chest looks like a xylophone." All this delivered with usual Kirkpatrick style, with eyebrows and deadpan, which JC found extremely charming at first, especially in bed when JC gave Chris thorough blowjobs and Chris just went "I guess that's nice" with the bleach smell of their sex flooding the room. He soon found it annoying though when Chris did that with everything else. He knew Chris wasn't really like that, but he was as steeped in his defenses as JC was in his so he really couldn't blame Chris for that, so they parted ways, sadly, amicably, finally. Both were a little wiser for it, and both knowing each other's boundaries, since they had tested it to the limit.

So Chris went with Lance, but that wasn't really a good idea either. They had rebound written all over them, and it was over quickly. They used each other for sex; Chris just astonished at how supple Lance was, those newly defined arms strong in grip when they held him down on the bed. Chris found out how much he liked being dominated then, which was a surprise. Being small made you shrink or fight, and Chris fought, and he was scared to find out the thrill there was in submission, how sometimes Lance really didn't even give him a say in what happened in bed. Lance would just flip him over, rim him, fuck him, finger him, suck him and he lay there just gasping, thinking, fuck I'm being selfish but too far gone with the pleasure to care.

Lance hated the fact that Chris just lay there, that he always had to take the initiative. He got off on it sometimes because Chris was a really domineering bastard sometimes, but he got sick of always being in the driver's seat, always being on top, always being the one who said let's try this. Let me put this in you. Let me tie you up. After a while, it got boring, although when they finally broke up, both saw it coming light years away and they weren't really bitter. They were both content to let the relationship serve like a gas station: a quick but necessary stop to another destination.

With Joey, things were different. Lance fell hard. He wasn't quite sure Joey felt the same though. They had fantastic nights in bed, Lance teaching Joey everything, even getting Joey to rim and be rimmed, that beard of his tickling, generating electric currents that made Lance want to scream. Joey was eager to learn, and Lance was his first. Joey said to Lance, "I can't ever be with anyone else. You know me too well." Lance felt like helium then, rising into the air, high on lust, love and that beard tickling him in places he never knew could send him over the edge.

Joey never meant to hurt Lance, but he never knew dick could be so good. He never imagined that he would love the feel of a cock quivering in his mouth, and that the ass was for more than shitting. He wondered if every man out there had a different taste, or if they all tasted like Lance who had an acidic aftertaste like lemon in iced tea. If they all served as a balm of forgetfulness. With no one knowing what was going on between Lance and him, and drunk on too much scotch after finding out he was going to be a father, he kissed JC who kissed back as if he had been waiting all this time. Curiosity got the better of him.

JC knew what Joey was like, and he kissed back, and he even fucked back, but he always regretted it the next day. Next days numbering two months worth. Months where Joey taught JC everything Lance knew, and JC teaching Joey everything Chris knew. It was a menage a quatre, even if there were only two of them. They were aware of this though, each keeping track. JC rimmed him, and Joey knew that JC learned it from Chris, because everyone knew JC was squeamish and had to be persuaded to try certain things. Joey fucked JC; Joey grabbing JC by his thin ankles and lifted until JC was bent most uncomfortably with his shins coming close to his face, and JC knew that was Lance's brutal loving care.

He broke it off the next day after the last one, finally growing enough backbone to break the cycle he found himself in. He saw Lance too, looking twisted with grief, those green eyes trailing Joey everywhere and felt so horrible, so shamed inside. Then he looked around and saw all his band mates stuck on this loop, this wicked dance of using each other and wondered how the hell love could misfire so many times.

JC wrote a song about it the next day which was damn catchy and set to a trip hop beat. Like words, it lost all significant meaning when it was repeated a hundred times.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Crappy poem by me too. God forbid you guys think it's been published, or that it's by Ai.


End file.
